First Kiss
by Iris A. Draven
Summary: Slight Wincest. Not as bad as my usual since there's no sex. It's their first kiss - duh.


"I can't believe they forgot," Sam thought, silently adding 'again' in his mind. With a sigh, he turned to watch the clock slowly slip past midnight. "Happy Birthday to me," Sam murmured.

John and Dean had left early that morning, promising Sam they'd be back in time for dinner. He'd worry about them, but that would be pointless. Dean, at 19, was far more adept at handling a gun, hence them leaving Sam in another shabby hotel room waiting to see if they had managed to kill... damn, what was it they were hunting this time?

Sam flopped onto the bed, clicking through TV channels, looking for something mindless. He might not occupy his mind with thoughts of what could have gone wrong, but he wouldn't sleep until they were safely back either. "Better not have stopped for a fucking drink," Sam complained to the empty room.

From outside, the sound of blaring AC/DC and squealing brakes told Sam that Dean had arrived back. Glancing out the window, he watched Dean literally hop from the Impala and head towards the hotel door. Sam waited. Three sharp taps on the door, followed by one low thump. That was "the code" to let someone into the room, not that he'd open the door without a look through the window or peephole.

Sam fixed a glare on his face and opened the door. As he did so, the glare faltered and soon he was grinning back at his older brother. Dean had that affect on people. When he smiled, the world couldn't help but smile back.

"Where's Dad,?" Sam asked.

"Stopped for a drink or 3," Dean answered. Then, unlike his usual self, he added, "Sorry we're, well, I'm, back late. Ran into a few... complications."

Sam nodded, staring at the floor.

"Want your gifts,?" Dean asked.

Sam looked up quickly. "You actually bought me something?"

Dean shrugged. "Sort of. It's not every day my baby brother turns 15."

"I wasn't aware that was a special age," Sam answered.

"Normally, no. But I got you this."

Sam picked up the small card that had been tossed his way.

"A fake ID. Gee, thanks, because I don't already have a shoebox full of them."

"Look at the age, bitch."

"Jerk," Sam answered reflexively. "It says I'm... 16. So?"

"So it goes with my other gift," Dean answered holding up a key tied onto a red ribbon. "It's to the Impala."

Sam gasped. "You're letting ME drive the Impala?"

Dean nodded. "Only when we need a getaway car," he answered, sitting next to Sam and placing the key in his hand.

Sam, still amazed, tossed his arms around Dean's neck, hugging him. When he pulled back, Dean's eyes were closed, his hands balled into fists.

"What? What'd I do?," Sam asked.

"Nothing Sammy," Dean answered, turning away. He took two deep breaths and turned back, grinning. "So, do you like?," he asked.

"I love," Sam replied. "It's perfect. Can I drive now?"

"Uh. I... I guess so," Dean answered, surprised at Sam's enthusiasm.

Sliding into the passenger seat, Dean looked at Sam behind the steering wheel. Sam reached over and rubbed his hand against Dean's short hair.

Dean moaned, low in his throat, closing his eyes again. Sam leaned closer, "Are you sure you're all right... Earth to Dean..." Dean opened his eyes, looked into Sam's, and reached one hand behind his neck. Pulling him gently forward, meeting no resistance, his lips came within an inch of Sam's when he gasped, released Sam, and looked away, stuttering, "Oh, God. I'm sorry. I just... I...," Dean stopped, staring into Sam's face.

"You feel it too," Sam said.

"What?"

"You feel it too. It's not just me. I thought I was crazy but - it's really there."

"What are you talking about, Sammy?"

Sam blinked. "This... thing... between us. Whatever this feeling is. I've felt it for a while now. I thought it was just me. Daydreaming, really. I never knew that you were feeling it too."

Dean, staring down answered, "You're my baby brother. You're so innocent..."

"I'm not that innocent, Dean."

Dean looked up, a deep pool of pain reflecting in his eyes. "What I'm feeling couldn't BE any more wrong if I tried."

"Then I'm wrong too."

Dean stared out the window. "You don't know what you're saying."

Sam reaches over, grabs Dean's shoulders, and turns him around. "Don't fight this Dean. For once in your life, stop fighting."

Dean once again stares at Sam. "I'm not sure I -"

"Don't."

Dean tentatively reaches out one hand, placing it against Sam's chest. He smiles slightly. "Your heart's beating pretty fast Sammy."

Sam reaches out and places a hand against Dean's chest. "So is yours."

Dean reaches his other hand behind Sam's neck and wraps his fingers in the shaggy hair hanging there. He stops, flexing his fingers gently. "Are you really sure -"

"Don't. No fighting."

Dean pulls Sam's face to his, gently leaning his forehead against Sam's chin. He steadies his breath, looks up into Sam's eyes, and continues staring intently as his lips meet Sam's. Two pairs of eyes stare into each other, completely caught up in the moment.

Sam pulls back first, gasping for air. Dean sits back, leaning against the window. "So... are you actually gonna drive?"

Sam sucks another deep breath and turns the key, firing up the engine. "Yes," he says, smiling sweetly. "Somewhere private."


End file.
